


Four Times Philip Wondered About Nico and Hanse, and One Time He Didn't Have To

by just_ann_now



Category: Points - Melissa Scott & Lisa A. Barnett
Genre: Banter, Character Study, Friends to Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-02
Updated: 2015-12-02
Packaged: 2018-05-04 10:52:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5331497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/just_ann_now/pseuds/just_ann_now
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What’s the history between Caiazzo and Rathe? Inquiring minds want to know, even if they're not comfortable coming right out and asking.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Four Times Philip Wondered About Nico and Hanse, and One Time He Didn't Have To

**Author's Note:**

  * For [madecunningly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/madecunningly/gifts).



**Four Times Philip Wondered About Nico and Hanse, and One Time He Didn't Have To**

1\. “How did you and Caiazzo meet, anyway?” Philip asks, over lasanon at Wicked's. 

“We were both south river rats,” Nico began, his eyes soft with memory. “He was just enough older for me to hero-worship him, I suppose. He led, not really a gang, not yet anyway, but a group of boys that always seemed to have all kinds of adventures. I just went to the dame school, and worked in my parent's gardens, and dreamed of the day I would be old enough to be a runner at the Queen's Point station. Once I tried imitating something I'd seen him do, walking along the top of high stone wall. The moss was wet, and I fell. Out of nowhere he came and picked me up and dusted me off. I was mortified, but he laughed and said he had fallen off that very same wall himself. He gave me an apple, ruffled my hair, and told me I'd get better at it if I practiced. I was awestruck. 

On my way home, though, I passed through the market, and overheard the greengrocer complaining of boys stealing his apples, a well-organized gang, he said. And the next day, down on Factor's Row, I saw a boy with a basket of apples handing Hanse a money-pouch.” 

“Oh, my,” Philip says, trying to stifle his laughter. 

“I never actually heard him tell those boys to go steal for him, mind. People wanted to please him. And even then, he knew how to manipulate them without their even noticing it.” 

“Poor Nico. Your childhood idol had feet of clay.” 

Nico laughs. “Well, it taught me to be a bit more careful about what idols I chose to worship.” 

 

2\. “They seem to have a grudging respect for each other, though,” Philip comments to Aicelin, over bread and cheese and some very good beer. He wants to know so much more, but really doesn't want to ask. 

She laughs. “That they do. Hanse manages to stay just this side of the law, most of the time, and when he doesn't – well, you know how skillfully he can brush over his tracks. But when he needs the Points, or has information that he thinks will be useful for them, he shares it. Look at how he sent you to work with them! Who else would be confident enough to do that? I can't help but think it drives Rathe a bit mad, though – he wants so badly to catch him at something, and at the same time, I think he'd be horribly disappointed in Hanse if he did.”

 

3\. “Have you two ever -” Philip asks, over too much wine. Nico flushes and looks away.

_”You know you want to.”_ Hanse's mouth was warm on Nico's jawline, his throat, as his fingers slipped under Nico's shirt. And the damn thing was, Nico did want to, so much, more than he had ever wanted anyone. But not in an alley, not with the Hanse who was already two steps outside the law, not with the Hanse that Nico, already a journeyman, knew he would have to bring to the Queen's justice one day. The Hanse he had longed for was the bright star he'd worshipped in his youth. 

_“No, Hanse,”_ he'd said. _“I've outgrown you.”_ He willed his hands not to tremble as he pushed Hanse away, willed his back to stay straight as he turned and walked away. 

“No, never,” he replies, and Philip knows that it is the truth. “I'm glad,” he says. 

 

4\. The invitation comes addressed to “Nicolas Rathe and Guest”, making it quite clear Caiazzo knows exactly who the guest would be.

“Are we actually going?” Philip asks. 

Nico shrugs. “The first year he invited me I asked my chief point what I should do. She said, 'Of course you’ll go. I always do; Caiazzo’s sending a message here. Don’t you want to know what it is, and who it’s meant for?' Even after all these years, I'm still not entirely sure, and I'm never off my guard. But the food was always good, and it's interesting to see who else has been invited.”

“So what are you wearing?” 

“Oh, dear.” Nico groans, and tosses the invitation aside as more pressing matters call for their attention. 

They don't give each other gifts, not really; they share the household expenses, wood and candles and whatnot, and whoever thinks of it brings home hot food from Wicked's or eggs or bread. So when Philip arrives home one evening with a large paper-wrapped bundle and plunks it down on the table in front of him, Nico regards it with curiosity, and a bit of suspicion. 

“Since you won’t tell me, I decided to take the bull by the horns and declare today your birthday. I can't have you showing up at Caiazzo's in your normal -” He slides the bundle towards Nico, pushing some bread crusts and crumbs to the floor. Sunflower dances up from his basket by the fire to investigate, snuffling up the crumbs and then placing his paws hopefully on the table's edge. Philip scratches the pup affectionately behind the ears. 

Nico sighs. “You know, you shouldn't have. I’ve got something, I’m sure, I just need to decide what, and bring it to the haberdasher’s to be steamed and brushed.”

“Oh, no, you don't,” Philip laughs.” My reputation is at stake here. I'd like to be shown as a good influence on you, at least in this one area.” But he can't help holding his breath as Nico cuts the strings and unfolds the wrappings to reveal a snowy white linen shirt, subtly trimmed with cutwork embroidery, and a jacket of dove-gray boiled wool.

Nico pauses, staring. “There's also a stock,” Philip says, fumbling with the package, uncomfortable in the silence. “Silver and black paisley, not too flashy -”

“It's – they're -” Nico at first simply clasps Philip's hand, then enfolds him in his arms. “I've not received a gift like this in years. I can't begin -” 

Philip places a finger to Nico's lips. “It's my pleasure.” 

 

5\. “I'm calling the point on you, Hanse,” Nico says softly. Aicelin gasps.

“Of course you are,” Caiazzo replies. “And I'll pay the fine before breakfast, and will have earned enough, even from one of your cells, to have paid it a dozen times over by suppertime. Why do you even bother?” 

The two men stand opposite each other, the lantern-light flickering softly around them. They could have been figures in a masque, or, even better, a frieze, “Justice in Triumph Over Wrongdoers”. 

“Because it is what I do. You know that, you always have done.”

Philip feels a thrill of pride. _For all that, Hanse admires, perhaps even loves him,_ he thinks, _this is as close to him as he'll ever be, all of him that he'll ever have. Because this rumpled, disheveled man, who embodies all that is good and noble and courageous in this maddening city, dear Nico, is mine._


End file.
